


hang on me

by sinshine



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Depressed teens, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, idiots to boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19744144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinshine/pseuds/sinshine
Summary: “Hey!” Skull shout-whispered, but he was grinning. His hands found Joker’s waist and steadied him. “This is a serious mission. You need to take this more seriously.”Joker laughed, but the movement made the nose of his mask click against Skull’s and startled him into silence. He thought that he should probably move away, or at least let go, but Skull’s hands were still on his waist. Akira knew that he would likely be mortified by this later, but the mask made him bold so he looped his arms around Skull’s neck and said, “I’m always serious about you.”[the 7 times they don't kiss & the 1 where they do]





	hang on me

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started this for Kiss Ryuji Day back in March, but it got a little lengthy lol. Happy Birthday, Ryuji!! Catch me on twitter/tumblr @sinshiney
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: I don't delve very deep, but there are some allusions to depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

The first time it happened, it was a fluke. Because Akira had only just moved to Tokyo and knew the names of four people in the entire city. Because out of those four, it was only Ryuji who ever talked to him like a person instead of like a hindrance or a burden. Not only that, Ryuji did something that no one else had done for him in months: he listened to Akira. Ryuji invited him out for a meal (one that wasn’t prepacked or heated in a microwave) and asked about his situation. Akira was hesitant, but he tentatively told Ryuji excerpts from a story about an intoxicated man, a harassed woman, and the dumb kid who ended up in the wrong place at the right time.

“What were you even doin’ out that late? Gang meeting?”

“Study group.”

“Nerd!” Ryuji laughed with a mouth still half-full of beef and rice. His bowl was nearly empty even though he had carried most of the conversation, a talent that left Akira both impressed and concerned. “Geeze… what kinda half-ass delinquent are you? Always got your nose in a book and now I find out you’re goin’ to study groups.”

“In terms of criminal archetypes, I’m more of a mastermind than a bruiser. The kind who crack safes and play chess, y’know?”

“You play chess?”

“No, but I could.”

Ryuji laughed again, loud enough to draw looks of ire from the other restaurant patrons. Akira smiled down at his bowl, warmth blooming in his chest.

The satisfaction of having eaten a real, hearty meal combined with easy companionship had Akira feeling more grounded than he had in weeks. He already thought they were ending the day on a high note, but as they rolled out of the restaurant Ryuji surprised him by grabbing his elbow and steering him into the arcade. It was bigger and brighter and louder than anything back in Akira’s hometown and, he realized with a smile, so was Ryuji. They stayed until it started to get dark out, at which point Akira reluctantly mentioned that he needed to get back before Boss locked up the shop.

“Wait, what?” Ryuji asked on their walk back to the Shibuya station, “You’re staying in the restaurant? Not his house?”

Akira shrugged. He had already talked too much about himself earlier, but… but Ryuji had _listened_. He had been interested and asked questions and maybe even cared about Akira? But they were having such a good time and so much of Akira’s life was dipped in shit that it seemed rude to keep bringing it up. “The attic’s been converted into a bedroom. It’s nice.”

Ryuji looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t. It was probably suspicious that the only other thing he had heard Akira describe as ‘nice’ was the yakisoba bread that was sold in the school store. Still, Akira was startled when Ryuji put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Man, you don’t look like much but you’re a tough one, ain’t ya?”

“Is that a compliment?” Akira hoped that Ryuji couldn’t feel the way his heart was jackhammering inside his chest. He tried to force himself to be calm but he was too unused to being touched. He felt embarrassed by Ryuji’s casual display of affection.

“Yeah. You’re kind of a badass,” Ryuji replied easily, further endangering Akira’s health with his earnestness.

They slowed to a stop when they reached the station square, knowing that this was where their paths diverged. Ryuji turned to Akira to make a joke about him being a whole-ass delinquent instead of a half-ass, but he still had his arm around his shoulders and Akira’s face was much closer than he thought it would be. When their eyes met, Ryuji felt something electric pass between them and he wondered if Akira could feel it to.

Maybe not since Akira stepped out of Ryuji’s reach, heading towards one of the ticket gates with a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya!” Ryuji waved back, feeling dazed. He shook his head to clear the fuzz from his brain and went to catch his own train home.

Akira fumbled with his train pass and almost dropped it. He bumped into a few people on his way to the platform and, upon finally reaching it, slumped against the nearest wall and slowly slid down it.

_Oh no._

.

..

…

..

.

The second time it happened was a coincidence. Because when you have a life experience so unusual that only three other people in the whole world can relate to what you’re going through (and one of those people may or may not be a cat), you’re going to bond over some weird shit. For Akira, the Metaverse meant finally having agency over his own life. It meant taking back all the power and control that had been stolen from him, then unleashing it onto his opponents tenfold. It was manifesting a potential he never knew he had and using it to run wild and free next to Mona and Skull and Panther. They were unstoppable together and Akira would always be grateful that he didn’t have to do this alone. Grateful especially to Ryuji, who had been by his side from the very beginning.

“Man, what’s taking them so long?” Skull crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently. The two of them stood waiting in front of Madarame’s ridiculous golden super-door.

“Let’s be patient,” Joker said coolly, despite also being impatient and having just checked the time on his phone. He wondered if he could somehow magic-up a pocketwatch as part of his Metaverse ensemble. “Panther will pull through.”

Skull’s arms stayed crossed but he took a deep breath and stopped tapping his foot. He watched Joker pat down the outside of his ridiculous leather coat, then riffle through the many inner pockets. “What are you doing?”

“Checking the pockets,” was all Joker offered by way of explanation. He took all the cooling pads out of a pocket, flipped the lining inside out to verify that it was empty, then put the pads back and moved on to another pocket.

“...For?”

“Secret pockets?” Joker shrugged. “I want to see if this thing comes with a watch.”

“Huh,” was all Skull had to say about that. He had two pockets; one to hold his cell phone and one to hold his box of licorice candy.

Joker opened another pocket and gasped quietly.

“What is it?” Skull was closer in an instant, trying to peer past Joker’s red gloves.

They both stared in awe as Joker reached into the pocket and extracted what appeared to be a long, red gauze scarf. However, the end of the scarf was tied to another orange scarf. And at the end of that was tied a yellow scarf. And then Joker began to yank the string of scarves out of his pocket at a frenzied rate, blowing past the following green, blue, and violet scarves, and coming to an abrupt stop upon reaching pink. He pulled the rest of the scarf out gingerly and there, tied to the end of the final scarf, was a ¥5 coin. A corner of the scarf had been pushed through the hole in the center of the coin and knotted on the other side to hold it in place.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Skull burst out laughing at the same time Joker exclaimed “Are you _fucking_ _me_ right now?” which only made Skull laugh harder. Joker looked really to throw the whole mess away but Skull tugged it out of his hands.

“Hey now, that’s lucky!” Skull yanked the ¥5 coin loose and discarded the pile of scarves, tossing it over the nearest hedge. He dropped the coin into one of Joker’s pockets, closed the front of his cloak and pat his lapels fondly, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Are you _pouting?_ ” This was the best day of Skull’s entire goddamn life. Joker rolled his eyes and the rest of his body tried to follow by pivoting on his boot heels, but Skull grabbed onto the lapels and held Joker in place. “C’mon, Jo~ker! What’s wrong?”

“It’s _so_ uncool!” Joker blurted out, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He let himself lean back with the motion, still rocking on his heels and forcing Skull to tighten his grip to keep him from falling. “What even-- ugh! Let’s check _your_ pockets.”

“Keep your hands off my licorice,” Skull growled at him, grinning and sharp-toothed.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Joker crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, “And no one wants your _fucking_ licorice.”

Skull inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. He bellowed, “HOW _\--_ ”

“ _Shh!_ Skull, we’re-”

“Did you just _shush_ me?”

“We’re on a mission!” Joker whispered loudly, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “ _Shh!_ ”

“ _How dare you!_ ” Skull rage-whispered.

“ _Shh!_ ”

“You _shh!_ ”

Skull pulled too hard on the lapels and Joker came tumbling forward. They knocked together, an awkward jumble of teenage boy limbs and joints, and Joker stepped the wrong way as Skull’s chin smacked into the side of his mask. Joker felt himself start to fall and his arms windmilled before latching onto Skull’s shoulder and ascot.

“Hey!” Skull shout-whispered, but he was grinning. His hands found Joker’s waist and steadied him. “This is a serious mission. You need to take this more seriously.”

Joker laughed, but the movement made the nose of his mask _click_ against Skull’s and startled him into silence. He thought that he should probably move away, or at least let go, but Skull’s hands were still on his waist. Akira knew that he would likely be mortified by this later, but the mask made him bold so he looped his arms around Skull’s neck and said, “I’m always serious about you.”

In retrospect, Akira decided, it was probably good that the palace started to quake right after he said that and effectively ended the conversation.

.

..

…

..

.

The third time it happened was an accident. That’s Akira’s story and he’s sticking to it.

Their little family had grown, first by Makoto and then with Futaba. Akira was still getting used to what it meant to have so many people rely on him. On one hand, it was nerve-wracking to walk through the streets of Shibuya carrying a bag containing an arsenal of fake but highly realistic weaponry. It was stressful to budget and stock enough first aid items to care for six people and himself. It was dangerous to befriend so many adults with questionable morals in his continuous effort to utilize every advantage possible for the Phantom Thieves.

On the other hand, it was reassuring to have so many people who cared about him (even if Akira felt that they didn’t fully understand him). It was heartening to have friends who wanted to go to the park or see a movie with him. It was comforting to have someone pat him on the back or squeeze his shoulder or ruffle his hair. Mostly, Akira liked that he never had to be alone anymore.

Ryuji hated that he could never get Akira alone anymore. He loved their friends and he believed wholeheartedly in the work that the Thieves were doing, but he missed having time for dumb stuff like hanging out at the arcade, just the two of them. Even now, he and Akira were picking up snacks at the supermarket in preparation for the meeting at the hideout that afternoon. Well, that was fine by him because Ryuji had plans to eat his feelings.

“Something you wanna talk about?” Akira asked as Ryuji idled near the frozen desserts, a pack of ready-bake cookie dough in his hand. He knew that raw cookie dough was one of Ryuji’s sad foods. They were alone in the refrigerated aisle so Akira stepped closer.

“No,” Ryuji said stubbornly. Then, “Yes. But it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.”

Ryuji had to smile a little at that; how Akira could shift the tone of a conversation in just three words. Akira would always take him seriously, regardless of context, and sometimes that knowledge would make Ryuji’s heart ache in ways that he wasn’t ready to think about. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head and neck. “I guess… I guess I miss you? Like, hangin’ out like we used to. Sorry, I know that’s not really… I mean, I know we see each other almost every day, so...”

“Do you have plans after school tomorrow?”

“Pssh, never. But I know you’ve got work.”

“Iwai won’t mind.” Akira already had his phone out and was quickly tapping out a message.

“If you’re sure it’s okay to cancel on the yakuza,” Ryuji said, as happiness swelled within him. He knew that Akira would do the same for any of their friends, but for just that moment he let himself feel special.

Akira pocketed his phone and noticed that Ryuji was still clutching the cookie dough. He reached to take it from him, coming into Ryuji’s space and, as though in a trace, Ryuji leaned forward to meet him. Akira put his hand on the cookie dough pack and suddenly their faces were much closer than he had anticipated.

Akira swallowed audibly and struggled to form a reply. The aisle was cold, but he could feel the heat radiating from Ryuji’s skin. He smelled like- like that way people smell after they’ve been out in the sun for a few hours. Not sweaty, but warm and nice and kind of like grass. And Ryuji’s dark eyes were so pretty and his mouth was-

_No, don’t think about_

“Well.” Akira swallowed again and didn’t think about how easy it would be to cross that small, final distance between them. “He’s ex-yakuza, so. Hopefully it doesn’t count.”

Ryuji’s eyes widened, the spell broken, and his entire body reeled back. “ _F_ _or_ _real?!_ ”

.

..

…

..

.

The fourth time was

It was

...

The fourth time was intentional, okay?

Akira hadn’t slept on the flight out to Hawaii, so of course he didn’t sleep on the way back either. He was grateful that Ryuji hadn’t fought him for the window seat so that he could stare out at the night-black sea, visible only by the starlight reflecting on and off its shifting surface. He was grateful especially because Ryuji was currently picking a fight with him about something else.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Ryuji whispered at a volume that was almost too loud to be a whisper. His accusatory tone threatened to disturb the darkened cabin and its slumbering occupants. “I won’t tell you what I did yesterday either!”

Akira suppressed the urge to sigh and tore his gaze away from the window. A glance past Ryuji’s shoulder revealed that Mishima’s seat was empty. Probably in the restroom again, the poor guy. “I already told you what I was doing yesterday. I was at the beach.”

“Doing what?” Ryuji demanded. He knew that if he kept pressing, the real reason would eventually come out. It was already a running joke among the Phantom Thieves that it was a good thing Akira was so quiet since he was a terrible liar. Whenever he didn’t want to say something, he spoke in half-truths or made terrible jokes.

“I was working on my tan,” Akira responded dryly.

“It looks _fantastic_ ,” Ryuji hissed. He crossed his arms and sank into a petulant slump. “Fine, whatever. Mishima an’ me had a great time without you.”

“Sure looked like you did.” Akira wasn’t sure if he had ever actually been annoyed with Ryuji the way he was right now. On top of that, he was even more annoyed with himself since he was the one who created this situation in the first place by keeping secrets from his best friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I already know what you did yesterday,” Akira snapped. Ryuji’s eyes widened and he sat back up in his seat, sensing that he was near Akira’s breaking point. “You dragged Mishima and Yusuke all over the beach, harassing every girl in sight.”

“We-- that’s--!” Ryuji floundered, taken aback. “Did Yusuke tell you that?”

Akira hated this. He let himself deflate, overcome by weariness from the trip and from dragging out this conversation. “I was with Makoto yesterday, at the beach. We saw you guys.”

Ryuji sucked in a breath. “Are you two… y’know?”

“ _No_.”

“Then why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because you tried to make a big deal about it in front of everyone.” Akira hated himself a little, too. The words spilled out of him. “She was chaperoning, right? She only had a little bit of free time and she asked me to hang out. And all we did was get some food and walk around, but I didn’t want to...”

“Spend time with me?” Ryuji asked, so quietly that Akira almost didn’t hear him over the background hum of the airplane.

“No,” Akira said sharply. “It wasn’t you- it’s _never_ you. I just... didn’t want to spend my last day in Hawaii hitting on strangers, okay?”

Ryuji frowned. He had thought that they were getting somewhere, but that sounded like another half-truth. “We could have done something else.”

“Maybe,” Akira mumbled, just wanting the conversation to end. As if he had ever said ‘no’ to something Ryuji wanted. He started to move towards the window again, but Ryuji put his hand on his wrist.

“Okay, how about this? Since you’re too nice of a guy to call me out on my bullshit, we’ll have a secret signal, okay?” Ryuji grinned at him and gestured excitedly with his other hand. “Like, anytime you’re ready to bail, you can tug on your ear or whistle? That might be weird though… ooh! We could use a code word!”

“Like a safe word?”

“Yeah, like-- _oh_ , you asshole!” Ryuji squawked and several people around them ‘ _shh_ ’ed. But that didn’t matter because Akira’s smile was starting to come back. “We’ll come up with something. Still, dude… I don’t get what you’ve got against talkin’ to cute girls.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Akira said, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. A strange mix of pleasure and guilt swirled in his gut. It wasn’t right that Ryuji was working so hard to cheer him up when he had done nothing wrong, but Akira… _liked_ it. If he could, he would monopolize all of Ryuji’s attention.

“Okay, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

 _It means I’m jealous,_ Akira realized bitterly. This was followed by a sinking feeling as he had the subsequent realization that this meant _he_ had instigated their first fight because of his own petty and unwanted emotions. They were arguing because _he_ had used Makoto as an excuse when he didn’t want to watch his crush- someone he definitely shouldn’t be crushing on because they were _friends_ \- oogling a beach full of women in swimsuits. What was he doing and what did he even think would come of this? And why couldn’t he make himself _stop?_

Ryuji’s fingers curled around his wrist, caressing him with a softness that Akira was certain was meant to be comforting but instead made him feel terrible.

“Hey, man. Are you alright?”

And so, Akira did what he always did when he was backed into a corner: something desperate and reckless. He leaned over the armrest and put his hand behind Ryuji’s neck, pulling him close. Ryuji put a hand out to steady himself and it landed on Akira’s bicep.

“It’s exhausting to watch you flirt so badly with so many people,” Akira said lowly. He felt Ryuji’s neck go hot beneath his palm. “And even if you did manage to bait a girl, what then? It’s not like you have any experience.”

Ryuji started to protest, but Akira put two fingers under his chin and gently raised it. He watched Akira’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

“Do you want to be kissed that badly?”

A groan caught their attention and they sprung apart. Emerging from the shadows, appearing as pale and wan as a ghost, was Mishima. He collapsed into the empty seat with a heavy sigh and reached for his water bottle. He sighed again when he realized that it was empty.

Ryuji, still watching Mishima, nudged Akira with his elbow. He heard Akira unzip his carry-on bag and shuffle around in it, then there was the press of cool plastic on his arm. Ryuji took the water bottle without looking and passed it wordlessly to Mishima, who immediately opened it and took a long swallow. Mishima nodded his thanks and managed a small smile, then he readjusted his neck pillow and closed his eyes. Ryuji turned to face Akira.

“Sorry,” they said at the same time.

“What’re you apologizing for? I’m the one who’s always draggin’ ya ‘round,” Ryuji whispered. He tried to stifle a yawn and failed, letting himself sink bodily on the exhale.

“Well, I-” Akira paused for several moments too long- “I should speak up more, I guess. The safe word is a good idea.”

“We ain’t callin’ it that,” Ryuji muttered. Now that their argument had ended, his mind cleared and he felt himself slipping quickly towards sleep. Ryuji slumped sideways until he could rest his head on Akira’s shoulder.

“It’s my word, so I’ll call it what I want.” Akira waited for Ryuji’s reply but it never came. He sighed and tried to slouch into a more comfortable position, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep but wanting to pretend that he could. He tried to settle himself by closing his eyes and letting his mind go blank, but his thoughts wanted to race. Akira jumped from one half-formed idea to another, then he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ryuji made a shushing sound.

“I can hear yer brain screamin’,” Ryuji grumbled, part of his face still smooshed into Akira’s shoulder.

“Cannot.”

“Can too. Gimme yer hand.”

Akira didn’t want to do that but he hadn’t thought of a safe word yet, so he offered up his hand and let Ryuji take it in both of his own. Holding it in his lap, Ryuji turned Akira’s hand over and used his thumbs to press into his palm, rubbing in small circles. He started in the center and moved outwards, tracing every muscle and bone under Akira’s skin. When Ryuji worked over each of his fingers, Akira couldn’t suppress the blush that threatened to give him away. Gradually, Ryuji’s head came to rest more heavily on Akira’s shoulder and his ministrations slowed until they stopped altogether. Akira’s heart still felt strange, but having Ryuji’s sleeping form draped over his right side had a calming effect on him. It was reassuring to think that, regardless of whatever else was going to happen to them, Ryuji wanted to stay by his side.

Once he was certain that Ryuji was asleep, Akira took one of his hands and carefully interlaced their fingers. He held Ryuji’s hand for the space of three breaths and then let go, moving his hand back to his own lap so that he wouldn’t be tempted to do it again. Akira stared out the window at the night-black sea, his thoughts loose and languid with the memory of the Hawaiian sun. He could still feel the warmth of Ryuji’s palm lingering on his skin.

.

..

.

“...so, to summarize, I’m an idiot and now Ryuji knows that you were hanging out with me on the last day of the trip.” Akira balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as closed the refrigerator door with his foot. His arms were preoccupied with carrying vegetables for the curry that he was making. “Sorry. I don’t think he’ll say anything, though.”

“ _I don’t mind_ _that_ _our friends_ _know, I just didn’t want the_ _other students or_ _teachers to think that I was shirking my duties as a chaperone._ ” Makoto’s voice was tinny over the phone. She was also making dinner, but unlike Akira she had the call set to speakerphone so that she didn’t have to play a balancing game. “ _T_ _hanks for letting me know, but I’m not surprised that_ _you told Ryuji_ _._ _I would never tell you anything that I didn’t want him to know_ _._ ”

Akira swore as the phone slipped and he quickly dumped an armful of veggies onto the counter so that he could hold it normally. “Okay. First of all, _rude_. Second, he goaded it out of me. You should give Ryuji more credit, he can be pretty perceptive.” Akira yanked the phone away from his ear as a peal of laughter rang through it. The sound echoed strangely, even for speakerphone. “Wait-- is that Ann with you?”

The girls stopped laughing and after a brief scuffle, Ann’s voice came clearly through the phone. “ _It’s girls’ night! Makoto_ _i_ _s giving_ _us_ _a cooking lesson. Futaba’s here, too._ ”

Akira pressed his forehead against the closest surface and groaned. He could hear Makoto apologizing and Futaba cackling in the background, but Ann still commandeered the phone. “Makoto, please give me a warning the next time you volunteer me for a public shaming.”

“ _Hey, d_ _on’t blame Mako_ _to_ _for your dumbassery,_ ” Ann laughed, “ _It’s not her fault that you think_ _Ryuji is_ _perceptive_ _outside of_ _situations that involve you._ ”

Akira picked his head back up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _Hey, you’r_ _e the one who’s supposed to be King Perceptive._ _Use that third eye and f_ _igure it out._ ”

.

..

…

..

.

The fifth time was mutually agreed upon by both parties to be postponed until a later date.

As Akira readied for bed, there was a knock downstairs at the cafe door. Morgana sprang up onto the windowsill to investigate, his tail twitching in irritation.

“Ugh, of course he came back,” Morgana groused. “I’m out. I’ll be at Boss’s while you two are being gross.”

“Ryuji?”

“Who else.”

Akira glanced at the time on his phone. “Huh. I wonder what’s up.”

“Oh, like you don’t know.” Morgana pretended to hack up a hairball on his way out the window and Akira flicked him off, grinning, before thumping quickly down the stairs. He jumped the final two steps at the bottom and could make out a silhouette through the glass of the door. The dark figure was crowned with yellow flames, the edges of his hair backlit by streetlight. Akira opened the door and eyed him critically.

“Well, you’re certainly not the maid I requested.”

“Ha fuckin’ ha.” Ryuji’s fists were jammed into the pockets of his sweatshirt. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Are you alright? You didn’t text me.”

“I, uh. I wanted to talk to you about.” Ryuji fidgeted. “Look, can I come in?”

Akira stepped to the side and let Ryuji pass before locking the door. He offered to make him a drink, but Ryuji shook his head and sat down in a booth, slinging a backpack off of one shoulder and letting it drop onto the floor. Akira sat opposite of him, but Ryuji got up and squeezed in on the same side. Akira drew his hand back when Ryuji’s came too close.

“Got something you couldn’t say in front of the others? Has Ann been teasing you again?”

Ryuji ignored that and leveled his gaze at Akira, brow furrowed and eyes intent. “Akira. If you want to, you can still bail.”

Akira laughed. Ryuji didn’t.

“I’m serious!”

“I don’t want to bail.” Akira smirked, his glasses glinting in the dim light. “I want to _win_. And once we trick Akechi, we’ll be on an entirely different level.”

“And we’ll kick Shido’s ass and ride off into the sunset. It’ll be great, I know.” Ryuji laid his hand on top of Akira’s. “But you’re shaking.”

Akira snatched his hand away, but his voice lost none of its bravado. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t scared. I’d be an idiot not to be.”

“Akira,” Ryuji persisted, but gently. His voice was only ever this soft for Akira’s ears.

“It’s not like we have a choice,” Akira rambled on, “As long as I’m alive, he’s going to come after me. And, full offense, I’m also the most likely out of everyone to pull this off.”

Ryuji nodded. “Okay. But do you wanna hug?”

Akira stared at him blank-faced, but then his lower lip trembled and Ryuji couldn’t get him into his arms quickly enough. Akira hugged him back just as fiercely, his fists clutching the fabric of the hoodie and his face buried in the crook of Ryuji’s neck. It wasn’t just his hands anymore, his whole body shivered.

“This sucks,” Akira said wetly.

“The fuckin’ worst,” Ryuji agreed, blinking rapidly.

“No, getting arrested _really_ sucks. You can’t exfoliate in jail.”

“Don’t say that! I’m sure someone’s made a prison-version of that face scrub you use.” Ryuji rubbed his hands up and down Akira’s back and smiled when he felt him laugh.

Ryuji didn’t like how eerily quiet Akira was when he cried. Even though he made almost no sound, Ryuji’s shoulder grew quickly damp and Akira’s body continued to tremble with sobs. It reminded him of his own father’s rage and of the days spent trying to live as unobtrusively as possible. Ryuji wondered if Akira’s parents had taught him that as well.

Eventually, Akira’s shaking subsided and his breathing slowed. Ryuji carded a hand through his black hair, smoothing the flyaway curls. “Do you wanna go upstairs?”

Akira nodded but didn’t move.

“D’ya want me to carry you?”

“No,” Akira said with another small laugh. He struggled against gravity to lift his head from Ryuji’s shoulder, revealing his puffy, red eyes. He saw the wet spot he made on the hoodie and started to apologize, but Ryuji was already pulling the sleeve over one of his hands and he gently wiped Akira’s tear-stained cheeks with it.

“A little rain never hurt anyone.” Ryuji felt his face heat as Akira blinked curiously at him. “Er, it’s somethin’ my mom says when I cry.”

“Oh.” Akira realized that he was still clinging to the hem of Ryuji’s sweatshirt and let go, his knuckles strangely sore as he flexed his hands. He glanced out the front door, to the street beyond the glass, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, it’s pretty late. Um, the trains are probably done but I can call a cab or--”

Ryuji ruffled Akira’s hair, perhaps a touch more aggressively than he should have. “What’d you think the overnight bag was for, dumbass?”

Akira stared wide-eyed at Ryuji before ducking his head and tugging at his bangs.“You don’t have to.”

Ryuji wished they had more time. He wished that they could stay up all night talking, that he could fully understand the shape of the monster that lurked inside Akira’s head. Ryuji knew that being their leader put a lot of strain on Akira, but he also knew it was more than just that. He saw it on Akira’s face whenever he thought no one was watching; lost and lonely. Ryuji had seen it earlier that evening when he left Leblanc with the others, having turned back for a glimpse of Akira through the second floor window.

“I _want_ to.”

Akira made a show of sighing dramatically, though he still wouldn’t face Ryuji directly. He tried to smooth out the mess Ryuji had made of his hair, watching him from under the fringe of his bangs. “So, you didn’t text me because you knew I’d tell you not to come. Fine, I guess I can’t stop you when you’ve already invited yourself over.”

“Damn right.”

Regardless of whatever it was that haunted Akira, Ryuji knew that it wouldn’t be settled tonight. He poured a glass of cold water and put it into Akira’s hands before goading him up the stairs. Then after he changed into his nightclothes in the bathroom, Ryuji followed him up and caught Akira arranging a blanket on the couch.

“Hey,” Akira greeted him. He still wasn’t quite looking at Ryuji, so he didn’t see the thunderous expression on his face. “You can take the bed, I’ll-- _hhk!_ ”

Ryuji grabbed Akira by the waist and spun him around, all but flinging him onto the mattress. “I swear to friggin’ god, Akira.”

“Hey!” Akira righted himself just in time for the blanket to land on top of him. He yanked it off, the static making a wild mess of his curls. “Just trying to be a good host.”

“Quit acting weird.” Ryuji turned off the lights and straightened out the blanket so that it fell evenly on top of the sheet. He nudged Akira over so that he could lie down next to him, rolling onto his side so that they were facing each other. Akira’s silhouette was highlighted by the streetlight that filtered in through the window, the rest of him hidden in shadow. “Or just, y’know. Quit acting. You can just be sad if you wanna be sad.”

“Did you miss the part where I was sad all over your hoodie?” Akira tried to keep his tone light but Ryuji could hear the shame creeping in at the edges.

“No, I remember, I was there.”

Akira’s hand emerged from the dark to give Ryuji’s arm a reprimanding pat, then came to rest in the space between them. Akira’s pinky lay so that it stretched towards Ryuji, but fell just shy of actually touching. “Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“You said that already, dumbass.”

“ _Jerk_.”

Akira laughed, low and melodious. He was quiet for a long while after that, but Ryuji could tell that he was still awake and wasn’t surprised when he heard Akira speak again. “I’m not acting.”

“So, that wasn’t you downstairs just now? Making jokes to cheer _me_ up while _you_ were drippin’ a bucket of snot into my shirt?”

“Hey, those jokes were to cheer _myself_ up. I know you don’t truly appreciate my humor.”

“Akira.”

“Sorry.” Akira shifted, wrapping himself more tightly in his half of the bedclothes. His hand retreated back into shadow. “I…I’m really freaked out about, well, everything,” Akira let out another nervous chuckle, “But having you here does make me feel better, Ryu. Thanks for inviting yourself over.”

“A-Anytime.” Ryuji was suddenly struck with the need to see what expression Akira was making. He wriggled closer, moving his head onto Akira’s pillow. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Ryuji was treated to the sight of Akira’s large dark eyes, his lips pressed together, and was he-? Ryuji touched Akira’s face, the pads of his fingers sweeping lightly over his too-warm cheeks. Yep, he was blushing. Ryuji’s fingertips drifted down to his jaw and, on a whim, his thumb traced Akira’s lower lip.

Akira shivered, his eyes closing as he sucked in a breath, and Ryuji was drawn towards him like a moth to a flame. Their foreheads bumped together and Ryuji’s fingers traced a line from Akira’s chin to his ear, to the dip in his collarbone. He could feel Akira’s pulse thrumming as quickly as it did when they ran laps around the school. The darkness pressed in around them, comfortable and familiar, but heightening Ryuji’s sense of having witnessed something secret and hidden. When Akira finally opened his eyes, Ryuji was close enough to feel the air displaced by the long sweep of his eyelashes.

“Sorry,” Akira said faintly.

“For what?” Ryuji barely had to move his lips for Akira to hear him. His hand played with the collar of Akira’s shirt, the back of his knuckles brushing over skin.

“Ryuji, I-” there was a hitch in Akira’s breath as Ryuji’s fingers traveled back up the length of Akira’s throat to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear- “c-care a lot about you. You’re my best friend.”

“I care about you, too.” Ryuji smiled, wide and warm.

Akira looked pained. “Friends don’t usually… do this. With other friends.”

“Guys don’t usually go into other dimensions to punch the brain monsters of huge assholes either, but here we are.”

Akira considered this as Ryuji attempted to distract him by tugging on his earlobe. He took the offending hand between his own and held it to his chest. Ryuji’s hands were always so much warmer than his own. “Listen, about tomorrow… if something goes wrong--”

“ _Nothin’_ is gonna go wrong.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said I could be sad.”

“Sad? Yes. Scared? Hell yeah. Talkin’ bullshit? Fuck no.”

“We know it’s a possibility.”

“Not for you.” Ryuji put his hand over Akira’s mouth, effectively countering any argument he could have made. “It’s like you said, you’re the only one who can pull this off. I have faith in you, Akira.”

They stared at each other and, after the initial shock of having Ryuji’s fingers on his lips had worn off, Akira decided that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to let other people into his heart. He nodded to show that he understood, but Ryuji didn’t move.

Ryuji looked down at his hand and then back up and Akira was alarmed to see him wearing what he called Ryuji’s ‘Fuck-It-All Face.’ Inappropriately named, it referred to the expression Ryuji wore whenever he resigned himself to doing something reckless and probably stupid. So, Ryuji closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the back of his own hand, over Akira’s mouth. Akira made a small, startled sound and grabbed Ryuji’s arm to ground himself, holding on for dear life. Slowly, Ryuji drew back, keeping his palm over Akira’s mouth.

“Alright, Leader. You wanna win? Then _win_. And when you get back, I’ll give you a reward.” Ryuji’s eyes were bright with emotion and they glittered in the dark. There was a blush high in his cheeks, burning his ears. “When you get back, I’ll give you a real kiss.”

Ryuji saw the exact second when the fire flared to life once more in Akira’s eyes. He was pushed onto his back, Akira sprawling across his chest to joyfully pin Ryuji to the mattress.

“Mission start!”

“ _Pfft,_ you big nerd. Wait, don’t- _ow!_ Let go of my hair!”

.

..

…

..

.

Ryuji only had one mask: the metallic skull that manifested whenever he stepped into the Metaverse. One mask, one persona, one true self.

Akira, on the other hand, had an entire Rolodex of personas that he could switch between at will. It had been fascinating at first, to watch the seamless transition in his expressions and demeanor, effortlessly graceful both in and out of the Metaverse. It was as through Akira were a chemical compound, and to change and react in response to whoever he came in contact with was simply part of his nature. It was as though he couldn’t help but become exactly who someone needed him to be.

Now, though? Now it really pissed Ryuji off.

“Something on your mind?” Akira smiled beatifically, like he hadn’t just gone through hell and back in the last two days.

“Cut the crap,” Ryuji snapped, then immediately regretted his tone even though Akira’s didn’t appear offended. He crossed the floor of the restaurant, planting his feet when he was an arm’s length away from Akira.

“Are you...” Ryuji tried again, but then realized that no, of course Akira wasn’t okay. He had been mostly silent throughout the evening, speaking only with addressed directly. Ryuji anxiously rubbed a hand over the back of his head.

“I’m alright. Really,” Akira added when Ryuji opened his mouth to protest. “I mean, the doctor was pretty generous with the pain killers, so I feel-- I’m alright.”

Ryuji raised an eyebrow. He wondered just what kind of pills that back-alley doctor had given him. “Akira-”

“You should go home. I don’t want your mom to worry. She’s nice.” Akira was suddenly fascinated by a stain on the closest table. It was the remains of a half-ring of condensation, a blotted crescent of lighter color on the wood grain.

“Uh, my mom is fine.” Ryuji offered him a bemused half-smile. “She knows I’m staying at yours tonight. She likes you, remember?”

Akira’s head didn’t move, but his eyes slid back towards Ryuji. His pupils were dilated. “Inviting yourself over again.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Akira took a half-step forward and Ryuji rushed to meet him. Akira tucked his face into the crook of Ryuji’s neck, ignoring the numbed discomfort he felt in his jaw and cheekbone. His arms went under Ryuji’s sweatshirt, savoring his warmth and pulling him close so that they pressed together. Until Ryuji hugged him too tightly and Akira hissed in pain as his fractured ribs throbbed.

“Sorry!” Ryuji sprang back, but Akira kept his arms wrapped around Ryuji’s chest and moved with him.

“Stay here,” Akira begged, his lips moving against Ryuji’s neck, “Stay by my side.”

 _Sshbfjzsahfjhhnn_ , Ryuji’s brain supplied helpfully. He carefully pried Akira back so that he could see his face, gently cradling Akira’s jaw in his hands. Ryuji peered at him, trying to see past the layer of make-up to the bruises that he knew were there. At the very least, Akira looked exhausted and he had trouble focusing on any one thing. He was currently staring up at Ryuji’s hair.

“Hey,” Ryuji whispered. Akira’s gaze slowly sank back down to eye level. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“You,” Akira heard himself say. He tugged on Ryuji’s shirt. “You owe me a kiss.”

Ryuji swallowed audibly and nodded, his face going red. He came closer and Akira closed his eyes in anticipation, only to feel the soft press of lips on his forehead.

“Oy.”

“Sorry, my dude, but you look really fucked up.” Ryuji pried Akira the rest of the way off and rotated him so that they were facing the stairs. “I’m not at all good with, uh, advancin’ stuff while you’re doped up. That’s some outside-of-my-comfort-zone shit.”

“But that was number six,” Akira groaned. “But I will maybe agree with you because your use of the endearment ‘my dude’ sounds really romantic right now.”

“A-Akira, please stop talkin’.”

Later, when they were tucked once more into the attic bed- Akira on his back because that was the position that hurt the least and Ryuji curled protectively around him- Akira mumbled something indistinct.

Ryuji caught it anyways. “You’re still worried ‘bout that? I didn’t mean--”

“ _Shh!_ Lemme finish.” Akira put his hands on Ryuji’s face and rubbed it affectionately. “I never think of it as acting. It’s more, like, different people bring out different parts of me. But it’s all still _me_ , y’know?”

“I know.”

“ _Shh_ , that was a we-- a _we_ \-- a _rhe_ torical ‘y’know,’ y’know?” Akira curled his fingers at the nape of Ryuji’s neck. He dragged his thumbnail slowly through the short hairs. “But lately, I’ve been thinking… And I’ve been thinking about you. And I think that I’m the most myself when I’m with you, Ryu.”

“...”

“Ryuji?”

“Oh, do I get to talk now?”

“Ass-hat.”

Ryuji easily deflected Akira’s sluggish attempt to bat at his face. He took Akira’s hand in his own, pressing his lips to every split knuckle and bruise.

.

..

.

In the weeks that followed Joker’s death, the Phantom Thieves came to realize that not all of Akira had really come back from the interrogation room. It was almost like Akira had regressed to how he had been when they first met him- quiet, withdrawn, evasive- but it was more than that. Back then, it was like Akira had hidden parts of himself away and he had just needed to be coaxed out of his shell. Now, it was like someone had scraped away at him with sandpaper, dulling his shine and smoothing his edges, leaving him softer, grayer, less of himself.

The one thing that hadn’t dulled was Akira’s anger. It still burned bright within him, showing its gleaming blades a little too well in the depths of Mementos. Ryuji didn’t like how some of Akira’s new personas looked on him; strange, twisted creatures that sometimes looked a little too human and who killed a little too easily.

“I don’t think right now is a good time,” Akira said, his voice carefully neutral when Ryuji tried to ask him on a date. “I already go outside way more than I should. And it’s not like we could just keep having dates at Leblanc-”

“We totally could.” Ryuji reached across the table and grabbed Akira’s hand. “Even if you weren’t dead and you were just some weirdo who kept asking me here every time, I would still date you.”

They stared at each other, and in the silence that followed there was the sound of a glass shattering. Sojiro quietly excused himself, leaving the mess where it was.

“But just in case you did wanna go on a date that wasn’t at Leblanc, we could go somewhere outside of Tokyo. Like a day trip to Kyoto or the mountains!”

“We shouldn’t leave Tokyo right now,” Akira said with a wistful smile. “Anyway, I can’t leave the city limits because of my probation.”

“My dude, _fuck_ your probation. And,” Ryuji let go of Akira’s hands so that he could stand up in the booth and yell, “FUCK THE POLICE!”

“ _Shh!_ ” Akira laughed and threw a spoon at Ryuji. It bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered onto the floor. “I’m in fucking hiding, you dickwad!”

“Don’t throw shit at me, you dead fuckass!”

Ryuji grabbed their napkins off the table and shredded them over Akira’s head. The little bits of paper stuck in his hair like oversized dandruff. Akira also stood up in his booth, raising a coffee cup over his head and started what sounded like the beginning of a lengthy monologue about the hardships of a down-on-his-luck fuckass in modern society, but then Sojiro came back inside and yelled at them.

Later, as they were cleaning glass off the kitchen floor and smiling, Ryuji was quietly glad that this part of Akira was still intact, too. Even if it was more cautious than before, Ryuji was fine with waiting. He was never a patient person, but now seemed like a good time to figure out how to be one.

.

..

.

They weren’t a couple and it wasn’t a date, but they were together at Leblanc almost every Sunday anyway. Sometimes they played video games and dicked around in the kitchen while Sojiro was out. Sometimes they sat in the dark for six hours watching TV. Sometimes Akira would become upset by something that neither he nor Ruiji could understand, like a commercial for pasta, and he would suddenly start crying.

Ryuji was able to track the progress of Akira’s healing ribs by watching how closely he would curl himself into Ryuji’s arms before wincing. Week by week, Ryuji watched Akira sink deeper into his embrace until they were lying tangled together for hours, warm and content. Ryuji carded his fingers idly through Akira’s black curls as they started on the fourteenth season of Phoenix Ranger, less aware of the television than he was of the steady rhythm of Akira’s breathing and the movement of their chests.

Ryuji took a deep breath of Akira’s shampoo and he wondered when it happened. He didn’t know when it was that Akira transitioned from someone that he always wanted to be with into someone that he couldn’t be without.

.

..

…

..

.

The Thieves exchanged a few exhausted farewells on Christmas Eve and one by one they drifted away towards their respective homes and the promise of a well-deserved rest. Ryuji took his cue from the meaningful look that Ann gave him as she left; he lingered near Akira, reaching for his hand. His heart kicked around in his ribcage when Akira took it, linking their fingers together.

“Ryuji,” Akira said with a solemness that Ryuji thought was a bit excessive, “Would you be available for a date tomorrow?”

‘That sounds great! Is seven too early in the morning?’ is what Ryuji would have liked to have said. What came out instead was: “Akira, I love you.”

Akira’s face flushed and he squeezed Ryuji’s hand. His lips parted to form a reply, but then a deliberate cough caught their attention.

They turned in sync to face Nijima Sae. She was embarrassed at having very obviously interrupted something, but not embarrassed enough to let them be. “Akira, I need to speak with you. Privately, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, godfuckit-”

“Ryuji.” Akira tread politely on his foot.

“She can totally see you doing that.”

“I’ll text you. Get home safely, okay?” Akira kissed him on the cheek, pressing the warm length of his body against Ryuji’s for one brief moment, then pulled away with a sigh as he left Ryuji standing alone in the falling snow.

.

..

…

..

.

“Akira, what the fuck is this?”

“I told you, this is part of the date.” Akira rolled his eyes in exasperation as he held up the police tape for Ryuji to walk under. The day had started off normally enough with a casual stroll through a wooded park, but this part of the trail was both unpaved and very clearly closed to visitors. “C’mon, are you a Phantom Thief or are you a bitch?”

“I dare you to say that to any of the girls,” Ryuji said as he crouched under the tape and followed Akira.

“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever want to be gutted and torn limb from limb.”

Ryuji chewed on his lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling too much, but it was no good. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day. He reached out and touched Akira’s arm, just because he could. Akira turned to him curiously but Ryuji just shrugged, still grinning like an idiot, and they both laughed.

As Ryuji followed Akira along the dirt path, he tried to look around for anything unusual or crime-scene related but found nothing. There were just more trees, more rocks, more green stuff. “If you’re gonna murder me, could’a done it somewhere more convenient.”

“What’s more convenient than a heavily wooded area with no witnesses around?” Akira put on his best Joker Murder Smile. Ryuji hugged Akira from behind, pinning his arms to his side, and blew a wet raspberry onto his neck.

They yelled and scuffled and tried to trip each other the rest of the way down the trail, eventually coming to a clearing at the edge of a pond. Already spread out on the grass by the shore was a large wicker basket on top of a blue blanket that Ryuji recognized from Akira’s bedroom.

“The city is starting construction on this area later today, so it’s closed to the public. We’ll have it to ourselves for a while,” Akira explained, forcing Ryuji to put aside his boyhood fantasy of stumbling upon a corpse in the woods.

“Akira, is this an illegal picnic?”

“It’s not just an illegal picnic,” Akira chuckled darkly and lifted the edge of the blanket to reveal two fishing rods hidden underneath. “It’s _also_ illegal fishing! Well, we’re actually allowed to picnic here as a political favor. But the fishing is definitely one hundred percent illegal.”

Ryuji let out a shout and pumped his fist in the air, startling a few birds into taking flight. “This is the best day of my life!”

Together they baited and cast out the lines, sticking their poles upright in the wet sand, before returning to the grass. Ryuji hugged Akira from behind again, this time aiming a bit lower so that he could lift Akira and gleefully spin them in circles. Akira stumbled a bit when Ryuji finally put him down, yanked too hard when he reached out a hand for assistance, and they both went tumbling down.

“Please get off me,” came Akira’s muffled plea.

Ryuji hummed and pretended to consider it as he pushed himself up just enough to see Akira’s flushed face beneath him. “Don’t wanna.”

Akira stared defiantly up at him, but then his gaze wavered and he looked away. “It’s... embarrassing that I’m the one freaking out over this and you’re being- well, you’re really cool.”

“Hey, you’re always the cool one. Let me have this.” As Akira lifted a hand to tug at his bangs, Ryuji intercepted him. He brought Akira’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.

Akira turned even more red and snatched his hand away indignantly. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to die!”

“What’s this?” Ryuji grinned mischievously. “The infamous Joker can shoot a god in the face, but can’t handle a lil’ PDA?”

“No god is bigger than my anxiety,” Akira hissed. “That’s my secret: my Metaverse bullets are all made from my anxieties, that’s why they’re so destructive.”

“Can I kiss you?” Ryuji felt Akira shiver underneath him and his grin widened.

Akira still looked thoroughly embarrassed but also completely thrilled. “As long as you’re aware that you’re actively killing me, then yes.”

“Prepare to die,” Ryuji told him. And he kissed Akira soundly on the mouth.

.

..

.

“Man, the fish really ain’t bitin’ today.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Akira said meaningfully, “I misunderstood Yoshida. They’re doing construction _to_ _install_ a fishing pond.”

“Akira, are you tellin' me that there are no fish in this pond?”

“Ryuji, that is exactly what I am telling you.”

“...I’m gonna dunk you in there.”

“Not if I dunk you first!”


End file.
